


Fizzled Out

by Nitrobot



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Bickering, F/M, sassy femmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 12:02:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3977320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nitrobot/pseuds/Nitrobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodimus greets some unlikely hitchhikers on board his ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fizzled Out

**Author's Note:**

> The comic isn't even out yet (and I probably won't even read it) yet I'm already being shipper trash about it. Sue me.  
> Since I have no idea what's going on with the state of the Lost Light nowadays, I'm just setting this near the beginning of the whole series since that's the only part I'm familiar with.

For the third time that solar cycle, Rodimus felt like his processor was going to crash. Rubbing at it did nothing to soothe the ache it spread all over his helm as he tried to asses the situation, but he kept doing it anyway. 

"Alright." It was more of a sigh than a statement. "I'm not even gonna ask how you all managed to get on board-"

One of the femmes offered an answer anyway. "You left the back ramp unguarded and open the entire time before lift-off, smart aft."

Rodimus ignored her. "Or how you got past the security systems-"

A different femme answered this time. "You mean that minibot with the camcorder on his head?"

Rodimus ignored her as well. "I just want to know one thing. Who are you, and why haven't you killed us all by now?"

The larger of the group smiled to herself. "He's got a point, we could've killed you all in your sleep if we wanted to."

The small gathering of Autobots around him instantly tensed up despite the rise of laughter from the hitchhikers. Rodimus massaged his temples for all the good it did him. "Who's the one in charge around here?"

"Isn't that supposed to be you?" 

Now even the Autobots were snickering. He was on the verge of hitting one of them, but he barely had the capacity to speak, let alone to turn around. "Besides me! I mean the one in charge of you lot!"

"That'd be Firestar." The one that spoke pointed to the femme in question, but it was more out of habit than to actually identify her. Or so Rodimus assumed, because a smirk that smug could only belong to a leader or a troublemaker. 

Then again, he supposed he was proof that they could be one and the same.

She stood at the front of her fellow hitchhikers now, almost challenging the strength of his stare with her own. Unlike them, she hadn't said a word throughout the whole exchange, but the firmness of her stance told a story that her glossa didn't need to elaborate on. Rodimus tried not to flinch as he leaned close. "My office. Five klicks from now." He walked away before she could offer any witty refusal to the command.  
A small number of Autobots followed him while others stayed behind to keep an eye on the newcomers. 

There was a hushed concern in his audio. "But Rodimus, you don't have an office."

That throbbing in his processor was back all over again. _"Shut up, Drift."_

 

**xx**

 

Five klicks later, in the hastily cleared space of the Lost Light's upper storage deck, Firestar was trying not to burst out in laughter. She'd had a few ideas of what to expect from the Lost Light's captain, but a knockoff of Optimus wasn't on the list. 

Rodimus, meanwhile, was trying not to collapse under the weight of his own frustration. It was endearing to see in a sinister kind of way. "Just give me some sort of answer here- who or _what_ are you?"  
Firestar decided to let him just have this one. "I'm a combiner, originally from Praxus." Then at the last nanoklick, she couldn't help herself. "And _you're_ a charmer, obviously."

Rodimus seemed about to say something with his serious 'I'm-the-captain-listen-to-me' face, but in typical Rodimus fashion it all melted as soon as he heard the praise. "Well... damn right I am."

In a fit of clarity, Firestar promptly gave up on him in that moment and turned to the only competent looking bot in the room instead. She tried not to stare too much at his optic while she rolled her own ones. "Is his sarcasm circuit broken or something?"

"No, but his 'common sense' one fizzled out a long time ago." Whirl didn't inject any humour into his tone, but Firestar chuckled nonetheless. Rodimus scowled, more at not being the centre of attention than the jab at his processor. 

"I can still hear you, you know!"

"Well, at least his audios are all good." At Firestar's quip they were both laughing at him now. For now, Rodimus restrained himself from throwing something right at Whirl's flashing optic, even though he didn't recall even inviting him to the meeting. 

"Look, just tell me what you want."

To Firestar, there was just enough desperation in his tone that she stopped laughing at him for now. "What does every bot on the run want nowadays? Transport, moron. And some fuel for the journey."  
Rodimus matched the quirk of her eyeridge with a huff. "Do I look like the generous saintly type to you?"

"Well, you're certainly not the intellectual type." Firestar strode up to the Prime's 'desk' (more of a poorly disguised container) before he could start another tantrum and seated herself on the edge of it. Mechs were often more inclined to listen when you got up close and personal with them, she noticed. "If you're worried about any of us betraying you, just look up our records. None of us are Decepticon-affiliated, and our combiner Victorion is neutral registered at the most."

That did happen to be one of Rodimus' main worries, and there wasn't much he could say against her reasoning without sounding as paranoid as Red Alert. He scowled regardless. "Maybe I just don't feel like sharing with hitchhikers. _Especially_ one who stole my style."

Firestar's optics went wide and she pushed away from his desk, now justified in laughing at him as she gestured to his frame. "Oh please, you call _that_ a flame job?" There was a scoff before she snapped her digits, and a plume of fire suddenly erupted from her helm. Rodimus could feel the heat of it against his faceplate, and even Whirl made an impressed whistle at the spectacle as the flames licked their reflection in his optic.

"A pyro mod in your own cranial plating?" he asked.

Firestar's smugness was almost as palpable as the heat. "A little prototype I nabbed from Praxus' finest workshop before the bombs dropped. Doesn't even use up that much energon, I just have it turned off to not scare bots too much." She winked at Rodimus during that remark, and for once he accepted that he was beat. 

He coughed more to shake himself out of awe than to clear his vocaliser. "Someone get Ultra Magnus to show Firestar and her _friends_ to their hab suites." That someone was Chromedome, who he had waiting just outside the door along with Skids. He was hesitant to touch a bot that was literally on fire at first, but Firestar was happy to follow him out. 

Only then did Rodimus let out a vent of air that could have turned the whole ship into an airlock. "Also someone call Ratchet up."

Whirl was still in the room, of course, and he had no eyeridge to raise questionably at him. "Why?"

"Either my spark's about to burn out, or I'm in love."


End file.
